


A Nod, a Wink, a Whisper

by zorb



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-12
Updated: 2003-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zorb/pseuds/zorb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a Weasley doing in Azkaban? Not something Molly and Arthur would approve of, that's for sure. Written between GoF and OotP, set post-Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Nod, a Wink, a Whisper

The frigid waters of the North Sea crashed against the rocky shore, the spray leaving a glossy sheen on the exposed boulders. A dreary day; well, what day wasn't? One of the many "benefits" of working here, even listed on the advertisements: reduced risk of skin cancer and freckling. Har dee fucking har.

She shook her head to banish the gloom from her mind and turned away from the window. She was happy in her job, she really was; it made her feel like she was doing something useful while others with more nerve than she did the actual planning, and strategizing, and risk-taking. It was just hard to remember that some days. Especially today - the third of the month. Prisoner check-ups.

A bark of laughter. God, simple examinations! This wasn't the stuff she should be worried about; she shouldn't fear any part of it, but if she had to, couldn't it be something like, oh, stabbings or outbreaks or bloody Voldemort? Completely irrational, she tried to tell herself.

But it wasn't, really. She knew exactly why she looked with trepidation on the third.

A knock at the door. "Come in," she replied.

The warden stepped in, leading a leering Avery inside the hospital wing. Examinations, like everything at Azkaban, were always done in alphabetical order. She smirked inwardly. _I've gone from being sorted to being a bloody Sorting Hat_. Nurse. Whatever. It gave her time to work up some nerve, anyway.

She proceeded with her routine professionalism, silently. For his part, Avery stayed quiet, too. She was thankful, though she'd never tell him that. She'd become quite good at shrugging off the lewd and calculated comments some of the others made, and Avery wasn't guilt-free in that area, but he tended to leave her alone these days, and it was nice to have a break. Made it easier to handle the others.

What she wouldn't give for...

When she finished, pronouncing a clean bill of health, relatively speaking, she called the warden back in to take the prisoner away, sitting back to wait for the next. Quickly falling into her mechanized routine, she was able to mostly put the inevitable out of her mind as she went through the other inmates...Crabbe (junior)...Goyle (senior)...only three more until--

Dammit! She smacked her hand on the table, causing the current patient to change his surly expression for one of surprise for a brief moment. Inwardly, she berated her loss of control. You'd think by now she would've learned how _not_ to obsess over things - or people.

_Must be force of habit._

God, did that ever bring things back! How ridiculous she must have seemed back then. Why they even put up with her, she'd never know. She must've been doing something right, though, because Ron had asked her before they all left to send him letters to cheer him up at the front, and his friends always sent their own greetings with his replies. Though honestly, they probably cheered her up more than she did them.

And then she sent her patient away with an analgesic and the next knock came and she _knew_. Deep breath. Count to ten. Make that twenty. Don't let it show.

She'd never been much of an actor.

Forcing herself into a stoic mask, she called for the patient to enter, managing to keep the quaver in her voice to a hopefully undetectable minimum.

She always seemed to miss his actual entrance; it was as if he Apparated into the room, though of course that wasn't possible here. But she could picture how it happened as clearly as she could recall her room back home. One moment, she was alone, and the next, there he was, like a brilliant shadow. And he would stand. Not like normal people stood. An ice sculpture, still, and cold, and simply waiting.

And watching.

At first, when he did this, she tried to tell herself that it would unnerve anyone, that unblinking stare. And this was probably true, but she'd never seen him stare like that at anyone else, so who knew, really. No other look of his had the special tension that this one did.

And he had so very many looks. She knew, because she'd seen them all at various times in her childhood and in observing him here. Not that she was watching him, of course -- well, not at first, anyway. How could anyone not be drawn to that beacon among the slime?

A rattling window brought her swiftly back to the present. Not that anything had changed. His patience was infinite. She fell back on the routine they'd established. It started with her calm, cool, professional command.

"Take a seat, please."

Next, the unfailing politeness as he complied with her request. "You're looking well, Doctor."

Then her mild reproach. "Thank you, but I'm not a doctor. Breathe deeply."

How was it that he could move his chest so far and still maintain that quiet voice? "Ah, but you should be. You're a bright woman." _With a perfect bedside manner, you're thinking._

Now the silence as she went through the motions. This time, it would be he who broke it just after - "Touch your toes."

His voice was only for her. _(Always.)_ "Have you heard from your family recently?"

"Yes."

_God, yes. (Yes, anything yes don't stop don't yes --)_

"And they are all well, I hope?"

A nod. _A nod and a wink and a whisper, that's how it started and ended every time_.

"The war must be going well for Dumbledore's side, then?"

_Just like him, to name the dead as if they were living. Reawakening. (Voice so soft and cold and yet...)_

"Very. Run," she ordered, casting the treadmill spell. It amazed her how he never broke a sweat, despite the increasing length of their activities.

"You must be looking forward to the holidays. A warm house, warm family." _(A cage.)_ "I'm afraid Christmases at the Manor were never so bustling, but it did have its charm." He knew all about charm, of course. Inclining his head as if having a sudden thought (never once breaking his steady jog), he inquired, "How is the old place anyway? Still under Auror control?"

"I wouldn't know. Classified information."

"Ah, I see. It must be difficult for you to be left out of the inner circle."

"No, I'm used to it," she shrugged. She felt his awareness following her muscle movements, taking in every shift. He let her offered information hang as he finished his run.

She cancelled the spell and approached to take his pulse. This was the part she dreaded most - tactile contact. Accustomed to the routine, he held out an aristocratic hand to her, inviting her to take hold of the pale wrist, strangely unmarked by age and prison.

Even if it wasn't her job, she couldn't have refused him. _(Could never refuse him.)_

The minute finally passed, and she released her hold on him. _(Hold me.)_ "You're done. Healthy as always."

He smiled ever so softly. "Splendid. Thank you, Doctor Weasley." The guard opened the door.

She nodded.

He winked.

And as he walked out, she whispered, "Until tonight."

The time for the examinations was the daytime, and in the daytime she was calm, cool, professional Virginia Weasley. But nights were Their time...

...when she would slip out of her rooms...

...creep to the high security cell blocks...

...whisper the spell to unlock the one labeled L. Malfoy...

...and shut the door behind her.


End file.
